


according to all known laws of aviation im probably going to hell for this

by jojotier



Category: Bee Movie (2007), Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, April Fools' Day, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bee Movie AU, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, I Do, M/M, Metafiction, Rants, Reality Bending, SO SORRY, Starbucks, This Is STUPID, also self insert i guess??, any way you look at it?? crack, do i dare stand where andrew hussie once stood, god im, it's exactly what it sounds like man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jojotier/pseuds/jojotier
Summary: The sequel to that one asked for of the bee movie au fic I did a couple years back, "according to all known laws of aviation THIS IS STUPID" where Eridan, the son of Shrek, falls in love with bee Sollux. Now comes the heartwarming story of Wasp Karkat falling in love with Dave the Human





	according to all known laws of aviation im probably going to hell for this

**Author's Note:**

> Hello I spent wayyyyy too much time on this,

“Yea no listen- you can’t just open a convo with ‘some hipster fuck in my fantasy writing class for grungy gritty fake Tolkien worshipping chumps is out on a date with a talking bee that looks like Jerry Seinfeld crossed with the generic approximation of what people think an ass acne ridden haxor incel four-channer looks like’ and expect me not to go immediately into cardiac arrest.” Dave said, trying to make sure that he had all this right. 

Because he coulda sworn for a second there that his ears must’ve been garbling shit worse than eldritch shit garglers getting a hold of Google Translate, because literally none of what he just repeated back to Rose made a lick of sense. Granted, he wasn’t any stranger to not making any fucking sense- he often did just the same thing, usually for ironic purposes that cycled through being annoyingly pretentious, mildly annoying, then utterly illogical, then as if M Night Shyamalin vomited directly into his skull and gently stirred the resulting brain slurry, and then cycled right back around to being ironic again. But this. This was just going too far- especially because Rose sounded deadpan sincere.

“Well, I just did.” Rose deadpanned, then took an especially long, audible sip of whatever miscellaneous substance she was holding. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Eridan is apparently just… dating a bee. A literal insect.”

“Wait wait wait- Eridan? You mean that dude you got into one of your passive aggressive bullshit wars trying to one up with ridiculous fashion back in first semester?”

“The very same one who claims to have won with his pompous hot pink faux fur cloak and MCR brand feather boa. Honestly, the only reason I didn’t carry it onwards was because Kanaya refused to let me in the house if I wore the suspenders…”

“You mean those shitty grandma ones done up in all the sequins and rainbow cheetah print?”

“The same.”

“Damn dude, harsh- those were like, the best things.”

“I don’t know how any of that matters, now that he’s proven himself to be even more uncanny than anything I could even hope to muster. Not that I actually want to top that, now that I know.” There was another pause and another, extremely long and loud sip. How one person could make a single sip sound exasperated as all fuck was beyond him, and if Dave routinely wasn’t out of fucks to give, he might have gently begged Rose for a lesson on the finer points of over-the-phone-emotional-bullshitery. “Passive-aggressive mind games are one thing. Bestiality is another.”

Dave was about to open his mouth when Rose tiredly cut in before he could even say anything, “If you say ‘bee-stiality’ I will physically manifest in your direct location to wreak my dark vengeance upon your mortal soul and kick you in the testes for good measure.”

“C’mon now Rose, have a little more faith in me. That pun’s way too obvious- I was about to say  _ wait what the fuck is that wasp.”  _ Dave’s entire train of thought instantly took a cannonball off the tracks and into the watery recesses of whatever shitty brain hole would work for whatever metaphor he was even getting at here, a metaphor he completely disregarded because on the window. Just, there, cartoonishly pressed against the glass, was what Tim Curry mixed with a DeviantArt inflationist’s approximation of a normal furry fetish and some kind of wacky color sapper machine looked like in wasp form, complete with uncanny valley human esque eyes.

“-Dave? Dave- you know what. It seems like you have your hands full.” Rose said, and Dave could see her just outside the window of the shitty Starbucks Dave had taken up residence in. She must have just incidentally been passing by, and he knew for a goddamn fucking fact that she was seeing the weird grey wasp slowly peeling itself off and agitatedly flying through the open window. “I’ll be sure to have quite a few questions about your encounter later, you poor impromptu guinea pig. Bye.” 

“Rose, you little shit, get your gothic Chtuthlu wanting ass back here and face-” but Rose had already hung up, unnecessarily parkoured her way up a building and over the railing of a fire escape in a stunning whacked out version of that imageset where the dude just fades the fuck out of existence and left him to deal with this. Asshole.

Dave was about to do what any sane goddamn person would do and mosey his ass out of there with his capitalistic hipster gruel when the wasp plopped on the table and in a voice that was way too fucking loud and way too raspy for a wasp, cursed, “MOTHERFUCKING CHITIN COATED DICKS ON THE SIDE OF A HONEYSUCKLING QUEEN WITH NO REGARD TO THE PROGENY OF HER BULLSHIT WRIGGLERS AND THEIR MAGGOT BRAINED SHIT LEFT ON THE SIDE OF THE FREEWAY WITH NO SHITTY BITCHTITS FUCKING BOX TO LAY THEIR SLIMY LITTLE FACES ON AS THE RAIN POURS DOWN AND PROBABLY DROWNS THEM IN A HEAPING HELPING OF THEIR OWN BILE REGURGITATED AND LAPPED BACK UP WITH THE DESPERATE ALACRITY OF A THOUSAND FUCKING CLOWN DRUIDS OF FUCKING DINGLEHORK TAPPING THEIR FUCKING FUCKED UP FUCKED ELFIN BOOT HEELS TOGETHER TO KEEP THEIR CHANCE AT BEING AMERICA’S NEXT SERVING JESTER TO THE HOUSE OF CONGRESS!” 

Taking a deep breath, the wasp seemed to be done, and Dave was about to slowly continue putting his shit up and inch away from the oddly hypnotic display of a literal insect’s shitfest like any normal human being with a functioning set of brain cells sojourning through the horrific divorce of fight and flight

“WHILE THE HOUSES OF CONGRESS CONVENE FOR A NICE LITTLE SESSION OF MONOCHROMATIC MONKEY SHIT FLINGING CASCADING FROM THEIR GAPING, TOE SUCKLING VORE HOLES-”

Was this real life, or was it fantasy? Caught in a landslide of an ear piercingly Shakespearean wasp, there was no escape from reality. Reality up and filled its shitty form in this capitalistic hipster hellhole which was slowly morphing into the off brand Sturbacks one might see straight from the animes, reflecting in the horrified depths of Dave’s aviators, impudently just shoved in his face like the plush posterior of a fruity rumpus of equally impudent muppet ass shoved there long ago. He could only open his eyes and let the gaping hole of his pupil take in the metaphorical neon orange felt sky and see the wings of glittering grey that blotted out the sun.

How did… wasps have a concept of vore? Was there wasp porn? Did wasps get freaky with each other while imagining that someone with an especially shiny mouth was sw

For once, Dave did not want to finish that train of thought. Nevermind the fact that he wanted to stop pretty much any train of thought wildly careening around his bullshit headspace of a chunk of useless mushy grey matter and nevermind the fact that he was totally up for joking about vore and how that kind of thing consumed someone’s life, like, the concept of vore itself vored, but would the concept of vore voring itself not simply create a vore ouroboros that sent the poor unlucky vored into a spiral of fleshy fun like some hedonistic one of those shitty spiral gifs slapped on youtube videos claiming to be TOTALLY REAL AND RADICAL HYPNOSIS [GONE HAUNTED] or whatever.

Okay. That was too many vores in one sentence, and he sure did wish that the ground would open up and vore him now, because the wasp was  _ still going.  _ At this rate Dave was going to have his firstborn in this shitty Starbucks, spellbound by the presence of this assiduously asinine anthropod. Finally though, the wasp seemed to be reaching some kind of finale to all this, which meant that Dave could go back to inching the fuck away.

“- SHITTING ON THE ROYAL DOG AND NOT EVEN REGRETTING IT!!” Finally the wasp took another breath and glared at Dave, crossing his arms over his chest and wait shouldn’t wasps have like…. Six of those little limb fuckers. Where the Fuck were two of this thing’s legs. This grey wasp was continually sliding so far into the uncanny valley that it was tearing a hole through the fabric of the universe and sucking Dave down with it to the vore-y depths of multi-dimensional drifting. Dave was slowly becoming lightheaded from a Vegas cocktail of secondhand oxygen deprivation from that long ass speech of the wasp’s and some kind of weird horror shit going on here. “A-HEM? Hey jackass in the stupid, weird, circular…. Black things!!! I’m over here!”

So wasps had a concept of Congress, the legislative process, clowns, clown  _ druids,  _ freeways and vore, but not shades. Normally Dave would comment on how wildly inconsistent this naming of human shit seemed to be, but considering the fact that wasps are probably the work of Satan and considering the fact that reality was still getting way too up close and personal in the Strider bizz, he was willing to give it a pass this time. “Yeah no I’m not getting all up in this.”

“Ex-CUSE me?!” The wasp flew towards Dave and Dave started to make long strides towards the door, only to have his path blocked by the wasp. He couldn’t tell just what was off about this entire situation, but there was something mad wrong, like a shitty case of indigestion brought on by the newest pants shitting Taco Bell stoner paradise wrapped in a new green 100% asbestos free copy of GameBro magazine. They never did get themselves back up after that whole lawsuit, did they. “Hey, stay the fuck where you are, Strider, I’m not done with you!”

“Wait. How the fuck do you know my last name.” Dave asked, blood running cold. 

The wasp startled, staring at the human, as if lost, before saying, “I… I don’t actually know.”

The both of them stared at each other in a vaguely unsettled silence for a moment, and Dave glanced around him to see if anyone else seeing the weird fucking scene would get up and decide to play knight in shining armor or some shit. But there was no response. No one was even looking their way, mechanically going about conversations that Dave couldn’t actually understand and going through the motions of drinking…

Head turning to the side, Dave was about to say something when the grey furby’s pubic hair flew into his field of vision again, demanding attention in his weird, raspy wasp voice that was somehow loud enough to sound like a normal adult weirdo. “Hey shit for brains, you didn’t even ask my name! It’s Karkat. Karkat Vantas, your God and the asshole who made this universe. You’re welcome by the way! You UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF SHIT.” The way he said the words were weirdly hollow, and Dave could swear he heard a clear as fuck giggle from somewhere.

Yeah, this was turning into more and more of a horror situation by the minute, and Dave wasn’t about to stand around and become some victim in the games of some bored entity challenging the bonds of existentialism or whatever the fuck. He recognized the tropes when he saw them. Time to blow this joint and get the hell out. 

He didn’t even try to engage bugsy over there this time- he just turned on his heel and started towards the door, rolling down into a crouch and sliding under underneath the flying, buzzing form of the agitated bee. 

There was crackling like the simultaneous malfunction of every tamogatchi in a five mile radius, playing static and weird horror movie giggles as the lights around him suddenly and dramatically dimmed to match the thematically appropriate mood of his metaphor. He reached for the door, ignoring the angry buzzing that caused his entire arm to start thrumming, bones vibrating at the frequency that hyper velocity stars slingshotting their way through the goddamn galaxy on their journey to fuck up as much shit as possible and have a good ol’ spring break try while they do it buzzed away at.

In the din of the buzzing and the vibrations starting to spread to the rest of his body, making him see double, Dave heard the wasp- Karkat, Karkat, that was too familiar but that was a bug, so how- yell, “WAIT!!! DON’T TRY TO DO THAT, YOU STUPID MOTHERFU-”

The door no longer existed.

Neither did the floor, for that matter.

But Dave wasn’t falling- it was as if some fucked up cousin of gravity was keeping him glued in place, suspended as the world around him became a weird shade of really dark blue green, like mother nature left her lazy green screen to malfunction or some shit, all with veins of lime green grid lines running through the place.

Turning around was harder than swimming through a vat of molasses, but he managed, and he came face to face with the laws of physics as he knew them being jacked up to high hell- complete with that Karkat wasp’s body in 3D, stretched out and moving one elongated eye in weird, jerky motions. The tables of what used to be the shitty Starbucks bounced and uselessly flopped around, soft jelly table limbs striking and sending rippled through shitty stock photos of people lifted directly from every tumblr meme in the last three years. All in all reality looked as if it’d be rendered by the shittiest 3D Animation software on Earth, and Dave might’ve been all up on that shit if not for the fact that his arm was slowly receding into his side flesh.

In the center of all the unmitigated chaos, some orange dude was sitting in the only goddamn functioning chair, looking incredibly bemused. But not the orange dude that one might have instinctively thought of. 

Said orange dude was a little too pale, brown hair a little too long and curly, and was wearing at least five plaid shirts laid on top of each other. They got up, let the chair they sat on fall into cubes on the floor as Dave’s body jiggled and vibrated gently and clicked their tongue, setting their hands on their hips.

“Damn man, really? You just  _ had  _ to be weirdly intuitive, didn’t you. Or maybe it’s because you were a main dude back in the day. Hard to say… I’m still getting the hang of this.”

Dave tried to ask who the hell this was, but all that came out of his mouth was a humorous assortment of toots, horns, and other sound effects that a three year old would call cheap. The off orange dude giggled a bit, covering their mouth before trying to compose themself, slipping their hands in their pockets as an unnerving grin spread on their otherwise eyeless face. “Oh man, that never gets old… but don’t worry, I know what you mean. I guess you could say I run things around this corner nowadays.”

He tried to ask what the hell this all was.

“It’s my playground, dude!” The off orange dude laughed, grinning even more. “And you just got punked, thematically and narratively!! Isn’t that the greatest irony of all?”

No, it wasn’t, and he wanted them to stop talking now.

“Oh come on man, fuck you.” The dude blankly looked in his general direction, and Dave guessed they were trying to roll their eyes, which was hard since they didn’t have any. “‘Sides, it’s not just you I’m talking to right now- and it’s not just me you’re talking to. Let’s make this short so as to not bore the Big Brothers, Sisters, and Siblings with their eyes all on lil’ old us now, mkay?”

Dave kind of felt like this entire meta contextual expose was both a wasted effort and highly fucking pretentious, dude, but Dave could shut his fucking trap. Except no, he couldn’t, because he didn’t have a mouth anymore. L o l.

“Happy April Fool’s Day, you sweet naive sweet innocent lovely sweet person you!” The dude said as Dave slowly felt his entire body twisting in a way that resembled the wrapping paper being flung haphazardly by a stupid excited baby on Christmas eve, or perhaps, on the dawn of a birthday and with the fresh scent of adventure and the void slipping between the cracks slippig in. 

Their grin widened until the corners of their mouth wrinkled, like an artist’s extreme, humorous hyper stylization come to life.

“You thought this was simply crack, but it was a  **horror** , well and truly!”

That explained it. That explained why Dave’s instincts were going off, because he had been predisposed to understanding when fuckery was afoot. Perhaps not in any conscious level that he could get to or that would be accessible without seducing the spirit of Freud to come from the grave just to project his own weird fetishes on Dave in an attempt to kkinkshame him, but it was there nonetheless, and for that purpose, that bit was going to have to be erased.

The off orange dude produced a comically oversized pencil eraser. 

“Aight dude… this won’t hurt a bit. I’m just gonna erase some of your canon bits to make this a little more feasible…”

Dave didn’t no what happened after that, and because he had no mouth, he couldn’t scream.

When Dave’s eyes blinked open again, he was sitting at the table in this shitty little Starbucks, and god dammit Rose, did she really have to leave when all this weirdness was going down? So not cool. 

The wasp touched down in front of him, and Dave didn’t react, because he was just a stone cold motherfucker like that. And now that he looked at it… the bug seemed pretty cute. He wouldn’t have minded making this little dude his little bedbug… So, suave and cool as he always was, he leaned an elbow on the table and smirked, saying, “Well, look what the lovebug dragged in.”

The grey wasp, Karkat, blushed bright cherry red. “I-IT’S NOT LIKE THAT!!! YOU FUCKASS…”

In the background, there was a hysterical giggle.

**Author's Note:**

> Tune in on the weed day for the actually serious climax to a trilogy absolutely no one asked for
> 
> If you have any requests or want to have a look at snippets of writing I haven't posted, as well as some original work, [why not have a look at my tumblr?](http://jojotier.tumblr.com/)


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